“After a weekend of serial blasts in Ahmedabad and Bangalore, cities across the country are edgy – schools are shut in Surat, cinema halls barred from screening late night films in Bhopal and Indore and Kerala are reviewing the security situation.” Read more
Every terror attack is followed by some public outrage, which slowly fade away as other more interesting news stories fill our mindspace. There is a general tendency among us to develop amnesia for such events soon after the initial reaction, we all do a bit of spot checking
1. Which city has been bombed?
2. Have any loved ones been affected ?
Our reactions are defined based on the answer to the above. This is perhaps expected among people who are exposed to such events, sadly, on a fairly regular basis. Psychologists can probably explain this better and I will not make any claims to understand this, but all I wonder is whether we have become immune to such events resulting in greater public apathy towards such acts of crime.
Having grown up in Assam at the peak of ‘agitation’ in the late 70’s and early 80’s there are some experiences that clearly stay in my mind. One morning, the newspaper headline screamed ‘1 dead in firing attacks’ and we all reacted with a sense of shock and disgust. Protest march filled the streets. The dead, Khargeshwar Talukdar , was declared a ‘shahid’(martyr) and his photo nudged into the space next to Mahatma Gandhi’s in the walls of those who are inclined to such public displays. Slowly the count increased and there was a general sense foreboding every time the newspapers were delivered in the morning. Slowly as such killings took place on a fairly regular basis, we got into the mode of doing the same spotchecks described above (1&2).
In the days of yore; before sms-es, mobile phones or internet - newspaper reports, radio or telephone became the means to keep up-to-date with what was happening when the whole of Assam was reeling with unrest. Schools closed ( I remember that we were promoted to the higher class without having to take exams one year, yippee), curfews, bandhs, satyagraha, protest march, teargas, lathi charge- all these slowly became part of the daily parlance and unless something happened in the near vicinity, we carried on with maintaining some semblance of daily routine.
Then one fine day, Nellie happened. That woke us from the state of immunity that the familiarity of events had condemned public conscious to, and a collective sense of horror took place. The horrifying picture of the dead children was plastered in world media. Suddenly the attention was focussed on Assam, a land hitherto more famous for an innocent cuppa tea. Before Nellie, nobody noticed the little storm that was brewing in the teacup and precipitated to such horrifying events. Post Nellie, the toll of dead creeped from units to tens, and tens to hundreds. What was unimaginable at one time, became acceptable as the passage of time and repetitiveness of events numbed our senses and the figures were reduced to mere statistics. Spotchecks 1 and 2 were the only thing that we did when faced with yet another bombing, yet another firing.
And that is what we are doing even today. Spotchecks. If the blasts have not affected any of our near or dear ones, then we move on with life as usual. Maybe the fact that this time 2 cities were targeted in a space of 2 days, the public amnesia has not taken place, but how long is it before we discuss ‘if India should play only Twenty20 and no more test cricket’ or ‘How Unforgetable has Amitabh Bachchan’s latest tour been’ or ‘has Rakhi Sawant provided any fun to Nana Patekar in the snake-ily titled Horn Ok Pleassss ‘(the numerologist who titled this is either poor at maths or was bitten by a snake ).
Why do we, the Indian public, not have any sustained public pressure on the politicians or powers-that-be to act against such acts of terror as urgently as possible ? We have seen the power of public uprising in the Jessica Lal Murder or the Nitin Katara Murder cases. We have seen the sense of public outcry in the Rizwan and the Arushi case. Why do we not express a similar outcry against terror attacks?
The political reaction will also adopt the standard lines – Government blame opposition and vice versa. Very soon they will all get back to gleefully sharing the loot over the N Deal trust vote, worried more about the bank deposits in the horse trading and negotiating over the issue of cabinet portfolios. Issues like reservations garner greater mileage for the elections and therefore they are more likely to be kept burning in the political cauldron for longer. But the fight against terror, collectively as a nation, sadly does not find any takers. Is it the lack of a political will or a simple act of omission and commission, a political hogwash?
Time will tell, but we probably have a good idea of which way the political will swings and why. And maybe that also leads us, the Indian public, to do the spotchecks and stop at that….Sad.
Monday, 28 July 2008
Sunday, 27 July 2008
Bombing Ahmedabad - 26/07/08
A series of bomb blast hit Ahmedabad and 45 lay dead with many injured. Just a day after such blasts took place in Bangalore, we are reeling from yet another terrorist attack. As with all bombings and such terrorist attacks, I fail to understand any sense of logic in such acts.
Another thing I fail to understand is the apparent apathy in the West to such events in our parts of the world, in 'the ring of terror' as George Bush Jr very intelligently put it. 9/11, 7/7 - all these make the whole western world rise in outrage and launch a war. But similar acts in India (or rest of the subcontinent) hardly cause a ripple in the White House or 10, Downing Street...among other places.
Leaving those aside, the real challenge of the day is to maintain clam and mourn the dead. Pledge that we, as a nation, will defend the rights of every citizen and condemn the dastardly acts of crime of these spineless characters who are puppets at the hands of some evil brain holed inside some caves - hiding from humanity, hiding from civilisation and hiding from all things that are supposed to make humans better than animals (whether we actually are better, is a different question altogether).
As so many innocent people lay dead or injured, one thing that we should all remember is that the colour of blood is the same and so is the colour of tears.....
Another thing I fail to understand is the apparent apathy in the West to such events in our parts of the world, in 'the ring of terror' as George Bush Jr very intelligently put it. 9/11, 7/7 - all these make the whole western world rise in outrage and launch a war. But similar acts in India (or rest of the subcontinent) hardly cause a ripple in the White House or 10, Downing Street...among other places.
Leaving those aside, the real challenge of the day is to maintain clam and mourn the dead. Pledge that we, as a nation, will defend the rights of every citizen and condemn the dastardly acts of crime of these spineless characters who are puppets at the hands of some evil brain holed inside some caves - hiding from humanity, hiding from civilisation and hiding from all things that are supposed to make humans better than animals (whether we actually are better, is a different question altogether).
As so many innocent people lay dead or injured, one thing that we should all remember is that the colour of blood is the same and so is the colour of tears.....
Saturday, 26 July 2008
Murli and Mendis celebrate Ram Leela
India is getting thrased by Sri Lanka and the wickets are falling as rapidly as Rakhi Sawant sheds her clothes. Just as the controversy around Ram Sethu is being brewed in the political cauldrom, the first test crickets feels as if Ravana is finally getting his revenge for the destruction by Lord Rama and his 'vanar sena' (monkey brigade - we still have this regiment and they are often seen as extra stuntment in Hindi cinema). Yes, we have been defeated in the past as well, but those were lesser intensity revenge - for the annual burning of Ravana's effigies during Ram Leela. This time, it feels like the big revenge.
Let the Sethu Samundran project go on - maybe Ravana's soul will at last lay to rest and only after that, we can discuss future cricket tours.
11:10am GMT, India 120 - 8 and all the stalwarts are back to the pavilion !
Murlidharan and Mendis have made a Ram Leela of us...
Let the Sethu Samundran project go on - maybe Ravana's soul will at last lay to rest and only after that, we can discuss future cricket tours.
11:10am GMT, India 120 - 8 and all the stalwarts are back to the pavilion !
Murlidharan and Mendis have made a Ram Leela of us...
Friday, 25 July 2008
Bombing Bangalore
Yet again the TV screens scream with news of a series of bomb blasts ripping a major Indian city – Bangalore.
http://timesnow.tv/Newsdtls.aspx?NewsID=12012
Thankfully, there hasn’t been too many causalities, but even if its just 2 (or one, its not clear yet) deaths, its two too many. It’s reported that one of the dead person was a lady. She may have been someone’s daughter, someone’s mother, someone’s sister or someone’s friend. Both of the dead were probably just going about their everyday life, when suddenly, someone pressed some remote control buttons and blasted the soul from their bodies. They lay dead and along with them, died the hopes, dreams and aspirations of 2 people and countless others associated with them.
What do such random acts of violence achieve ? What ? What ? What ?
Nothing but spreading waves of terror and chaos. Worried parents, relatives, friends calling their loved ones to find if they are ok. Rising levels of fear resulting in xenophobic outbursts at some later date. The need to retaliate. Plan more blasts. The vicious cycle of terror goes on and on and on…till it all becomes a mindless game for the bloodthirsty, official statistics for the bureaucracy , agenda for the political vultures or script material for Ram Gopal Verma. Sadly we forget that there may be a little child whose mother lay dead or a mother cursed to live a life bereft of the child she raised or bore, or a father faced with the heavy burden of carrying out the last rites of the dead. People whom they loved, but could not keep. Because, some demented mind justified this mockery against humanity.
Sadly, the occurance of such blasts have become so common that we have developed some kind of apathy towards such acts of violence. We compare the numbers and judge the impact. And life moves on, till another blast occurs and momentarily tears our attention from everyday struggle.
Take a look at the statistics below. It is high time to say that we have had enough, but problem is, whom do we say this to ?
May 13, 2008: Eight serial blasts rock Jaipur in a span of 12 minutes leaving 65 dead and over 150 injured.
January 2008: Terrorist attack on CRPF camp in Rampur kills eight.
October 2007: 2 killed in a blast inside Ajmer Sharif shrine during Ramadan, in Rajasthan.
August 2007: 30 dead, 60 hurt in Hyderabad 'terror'strike.
May 2007: A bomb at Mecca mosque in Hyderabad kills 11 people.
February 19, 2007: Two bombs explode aboard a train bound from India to Pakistan, burning to death at least 66 passengers, most of them Pakistanis.
September 2006: 30 dead and 100 hurt in twin blasts at a mosque in Malegaon.July 2006: Seven bombs on Mumbai's trains kill over 200 and injure 700 others.
March 2006: Twin bombings at a train station and a temple in Varanasi kill 20 people.
October 2005: Three bombs placed in busy New Delhi markets a day before Diwali kill 62 people and injure hundreds.
http://timesnow.tv/Newsdtls.aspx?NewsID=12012
Thankfully, there hasn’t been too many causalities, but even if its just 2 (or one, its not clear yet) deaths, its two too many. It’s reported that one of the dead person was a lady. She may have been someone’s daughter, someone’s mother, someone’s sister or someone’s friend. Both of the dead were probably just going about their everyday life, when suddenly, someone pressed some remote control buttons and blasted the soul from their bodies. They lay dead and along with them, died the hopes, dreams and aspirations of 2 people and countless others associated with them.
What do such random acts of violence achieve ? What ? What ? What ?
Nothing but spreading waves of terror and chaos. Worried parents, relatives, friends calling their loved ones to find if they are ok. Rising levels of fear resulting in xenophobic outbursts at some later date. The need to retaliate. Plan more blasts. The vicious cycle of terror goes on and on and on…till it all becomes a mindless game for the bloodthirsty, official statistics for the bureaucracy , agenda for the political vultures or script material for Ram Gopal Verma. Sadly we forget that there may be a little child whose mother lay dead or a mother cursed to live a life bereft of the child she raised or bore, or a father faced with the heavy burden of carrying out the last rites of the dead. People whom they loved, but could not keep. Because, some demented mind justified this mockery against humanity.
Sadly, the occurance of such blasts have become so common that we have developed some kind of apathy towards such acts of violence. We compare the numbers and judge the impact. And life moves on, till another blast occurs and momentarily tears our attention from everyday struggle.
Take a look at the statistics below. It is high time to say that we have had enough, but problem is, whom do we say this to ?
May 13, 2008: Eight serial blasts rock Jaipur in a span of 12 minutes leaving 65 dead and over 150 injured.
January 2008: Terrorist attack on CRPF camp in Rampur kills eight.
October 2007: 2 killed in a blast inside Ajmer Sharif shrine during Ramadan, in Rajasthan.
August 2007: 30 dead, 60 hurt in Hyderabad 'terror'strike.
May 2007: A bomb at Mecca mosque in Hyderabad kills 11 people.
February 19, 2007: Two bombs explode aboard a train bound from India to Pakistan, burning to death at least 66 passengers, most of them Pakistanis.
September 2006: 30 dead and 100 hurt in twin blasts at a mosque in Malegaon.July 2006: Seven bombs on Mumbai's trains kill over 200 and injure 700 others.
March 2006: Twin bombings at a train station and a temple in Varanasi kill 20 people.
October 2005: Three bombs placed in busy New Delhi markets a day before Diwali kill 62 people and injure hundreds.
We were there first !
Long, long after the magical or mysterious conception of many of our Indian mythological kings and Gods, the science of artificial insemination finally reached the Western world and a mere 30 years ago from today, the first recorded test tube baby was born. Louise Brown , born on 25th of July 1978. But we were there first.
When our grandmothers narrated the stories of Ramayana and Mahabharata to us, I was too young to wonder how one woman can bear a 100 sons or how a human can mother a monkey. Such details were left unexplained by the elders and unexplored by our young minds since the fact that Hanuman can grow himself to any size he wants was more fascinating than how he was born.
But just as we were growing up and the birds and bees started pecking into areas of the brain cells having direct anatomical connections, arrived Ramanand Sagar with Ramayana and Mahabharata on TV. Just as we were starting to discover certain mysteries regarding pro-creation of life, Rama and Sita arrived directly on the television screens of our home. Suddenly, Hanuman’s expanding form or Kumbhakaran’s ability to sleep was not as exciting as the love between Ram and Sita or the Raas Leelas of Krishna. The details censored by our grandmothers were now being exposed to us in a way any viewer of Indian cinema could understand. By then , we knew that a girl puking would mean that she is pregnant which was a good thing or bad, depending on her marital status. Yes, I’m still to figure out how a doctor can confirm pregnancy by just feeling the nerves of the wrist, but who knows maybe its some bit of knowledge hidden in the shastras and passed on only to Medical students in India ? Back to the point, when the screen focussed on two flowers moving shakily towards each other, we knew that the next scene would show Ayodha erupting with joy at the birth of a new baby (somehow the image of Sita puking is ungodly and unsavoury, so that bit was not shown - after all, morning sickness is for us lesser mortals).
But what we failed to fathom, and thereby marvel at, were the other kinds of bizarre conception. Some examples :
1. Lord Rama, Lakshmana, Bharata and Shatrughna were born to the three wives of King Dasharath after they consumed ‘pudding’.
2.Anjana, Hanuman’s mother was offered some of the ‘pudding’ by Pawan, the Hindu deity of wind, and gave birth to Pawan Putra Hanuman.
3.Pandu, the father of the Pandavas , was cursed not to have children and both his wives, Kunti and Madri, gave birth to the 5 pandavas after ‘boons’ from different Gods.
Amar Chitra Katha comics usually depicted these intriguing scenes with a lady bowing her head deferentially to receive the blessing from the Gods who were giving them the ‘prasad’ (holy food). But the television screens glared and intrigued us with the hidden meaning behind the look in the eyes of the heroine. Reading a comic was often done in isolation, but watching the TV was a collective experience and the silence and uncomfortable coughs of the elders during such scenes were enough to convince us that there was more to it then meets the eyes.
Time makes us all wiser and as new vistas of knowledge were opened to me, I realised that these were probably cases of artificial insemination. They were all test tube babies, much, much before Louise Brown and was a testimony to the powerful science hidden in the shastras written eons ago.
Harman Baweja could not show it in Love Story 2050, but a day may come when scientists find a way for people to expand to any size they want (and conversely shrink to any size they want – such a welcome thought for the likes of me), but we already had Hanumanji doing it ages ago. Cloning may have just taken off in the west, but cross species transplant ? Hah, it’s a long way off, I am sure, but we already have Ganeshji. If and when cross species transplant happens, I may not be around, but definitely some other Indian like me will say, We were there first…!
When our grandmothers narrated the stories of Ramayana and Mahabharata to us, I was too young to wonder how one woman can bear a 100 sons or how a human can mother a monkey. Such details were left unexplained by the elders and unexplored by our young minds since the fact that Hanuman can grow himself to any size he wants was more fascinating than how he was born.
But just as we were growing up and the birds and bees started pecking into areas of the brain cells having direct anatomical connections, arrived Ramanand Sagar with Ramayana and Mahabharata on TV. Just as we were starting to discover certain mysteries regarding pro-creation of life, Rama and Sita arrived directly on the television screens of our home. Suddenly, Hanuman’s expanding form or Kumbhakaran’s ability to sleep was not as exciting as the love between Ram and Sita or the Raas Leelas of Krishna. The details censored by our grandmothers were now being exposed to us in a way any viewer of Indian cinema could understand. By then , we knew that a girl puking would mean that she is pregnant which was a good thing or bad, depending on her marital status. Yes, I’m still to figure out how a doctor can confirm pregnancy by just feeling the nerves of the wrist, but who knows maybe its some bit of knowledge hidden in the shastras and passed on only to Medical students in India ? Back to the point, when the screen focussed on two flowers moving shakily towards each other, we knew that the next scene would show Ayodha erupting with joy at the birth of a new baby (somehow the image of Sita puking is ungodly and unsavoury, so that bit was not shown - after all, morning sickness is for us lesser mortals).
But what we failed to fathom, and thereby marvel at, were the other kinds of bizarre conception. Some examples :
1. Lord Rama, Lakshmana, Bharata and Shatrughna were born to the three wives of King Dasharath after they consumed ‘pudding’.
2.Anjana, Hanuman’s mother was offered some of the ‘pudding’ by Pawan, the Hindu deity of wind, and gave birth to Pawan Putra Hanuman.
3.Pandu, the father of the Pandavas , was cursed not to have children and both his wives, Kunti and Madri, gave birth to the 5 pandavas after ‘boons’ from different Gods.
Amar Chitra Katha comics usually depicted these intriguing scenes with a lady bowing her head deferentially to receive the blessing from the Gods who were giving them the ‘prasad’ (holy food). But the television screens glared and intrigued us with the hidden meaning behind the look in the eyes of the heroine. Reading a comic was often done in isolation, but watching the TV was a collective experience and the silence and uncomfortable coughs of the elders during such scenes were enough to convince us that there was more to it then meets the eyes.
Time makes us all wiser and as new vistas of knowledge were opened to me, I realised that these were probably cases of artificial insemination. They were all test tube babies, much, much before Louise Brown and was a testimony to the powerful science hidden in the shastras written eons ago.
Harman Baweja could not show it in Love Story 2050, but a day may come when scientists find a way for people to expand to any size they want (and conversely shrink to any size they want – such a welcome thought for the likes of me), but we already had Hanumanji doing it ages ago. Cloning may have just taken off in the west, but cross species transplant ? Hah, it’s a long way off, I am sure, but we already have Ganeshji. If and when cross species transplant happens, I may not be around, but definitely some other Indian like me will say, We were there first…!
Ten things I can do in India but not in London
Everyday, as I trudge along life in London, I am often assailed by stranded memories of life in India, life as I knew while growing up and for much of a greater part of my adult life - so far. Catching me unawares, these memories transcend space and time and whizz me suddenly to the familiar sounds, smell and experiences of India. Little things, but powerful in terms of the memories it evokes. Things which bring out the experience of living in different regions, things that remind me of all that I could do in India, but not in London, ten of which I will share below.
1. In India, I can make use of my road sense in driving along the lanes, byelanes, highways and expressways, in a way that allows the varied pace of traffic to keep flowing - smooth or staggered, but somehow we manage to reach our destined destination (the interim or the final). In London, where every movement is guided by the ‘Highway Code’, I have to switch off my instincts and recall the rigorous training underwent in numerous driving lessons, to make even a simple turn. At the roundabouts, I can’t help being amazed at how people queue up along one lane while the next lane is nearly empty just because the Highway Code dictated what lane should be taken if we have to go in a certain direction further along. An honest confession – sometimes I don’t recall the Highway Code too well; my instincts take over in an bid to make maximum use of resources !
2. In India I can expect the unexpected, hope for the hopeless while in London, structure and routine govern my daily existence. Loadshedding or power outage in the middle of the night – no problem, jugar ho jayega ( it will be managed). In the west, should there ever be a power outage, counseling centers will be set up to enable people to handle such a crisis !
3. In India, I can turn up at my friends/relatives/distant acquaintances/complete stranger’s house unannounced . Eons ago as a kid, guests turning up unannounced provided welcome relief from tedious time at the study table. Here, I have to book appointments weeks ahead; even for a ‘blink-and-you-miss’ visit.
4. In India, I can expect the high and mighty to be esconsed and transported in the safety of their rarefied zones, far from the teeming masses of lesser humanity – in motorcades and flashy cars that will stop for no red light or traffic police, zooming them to their destination at speeds of travel only surpassed by light. In London, David Cameron ( counterpart of L K Advani, our PM-in-waiting pre Nuclear deal) just had his bike stolen.
5. In India, I can haggle. I can counter any price with absurd offers and negotiate with all the skills of a City banker with any vendor – from the vegetable-wala to the builder. Buying something was not just a case of exchanging plastic money, but it was an exercise in eloquence, coaxing, hard negotiating skills and financial acumen. At the end of every transaction, the buyer felt like a winner. It’s a different matter that this feeling of well being lasted till the promised value of the goods purchased dissipated rapidly, but nothing deters us and we bargain again and again. In the west, I wait for the ‘Sales’.
6. In India, I can follow my heart and make claims without any need for material or scientific evidence. I think, therefore I know. If I think that the Taj Mahal was a Shiv Mandir, then so be it. Freedom of not just thought, but of expression. In London, if I claim to have come back from the dead, then I have to prove it – case in point – the Canoe Man.
7. In India, if I ever get the promised share of millions from the offices of a Nigerian banker wanting to transfer some of the moolah, I can flaunt my prestige saloons and travel in chauffeured luxury. In the west, people stash away the Bentleys and the Rolls Royces in their garage and ride around in bikes, ostensibly to reduce the carbon footprint (does not matter that hordes fly out on long haul holiday flights and burn more fuel than can be justifiably explained in Green terms !).
8. In India, I can write my name as KKKKKiran and still be considered sane enough to sign my Will or any other legal documents. In London, people will think I am mad. Simple.
9. In India, if I call customer services, chances are that Vivek Sharma will visit me to fix the problem personally. In London, I will be speaking on the phone to Jack-with-an- American accent and who is actually Vivek Sharma and who goes through a script for carrying out a conversation and asks me about the weather when all I want to do is make a quick payment.
10. In India, I can feel a sense of belonging, a sense of history seeping into my blood the moment my feet first touches the ground after landing from distant shores. Yes, there are moments when the context of belonging shifted from India, to the state, to the city, to a particular part of the city and finally within the four walls of the house (and I can toss over the garbage across the vacant plot next door), but inspite of this, when we hear the strains of Jana Gana Mana, we are binded to our nation ; a nation born at the midnight hour because of a tryst that we made with destiny. In London, I will always be asked where do I belong. Rightly so, for it is to India that I belong....
1. In India, I can make use of my road sense in driving along the lanes, byelanes, highways and expressways, in a way that allows the varied pace of traffic to keep flowing - smooth or staggered, but somehow we manage to reach our destined destination (the interim or the final). In London, where every movement is guided by the ‘Highway Code’, I have to switch off my instincts and recall the rigorous training underwent in numerous driving lessons, to make even a simple turn. At the roundabouts, I can’t help being amazed at how people queue up along one lane while the next lane is nearly empty just because the Highway Code dictated what lane should be taken if we have to go in a certain direction further along. An honest confession – sometimes I don’t recall the Highway Code too well; my instincts take over in an bid to make maximum use of resources !
2. In India I can expect the unexpected, hope for the hopeless while in London, structure and routine govern my daily existence. Loadshedding or power outage in the middle of the night – no problem, jugar ho jayega ( it will be managed). In the west, should there ever be a power outage, counseling centers will be set up to enable people to handle such a crisis !
3. In India, I can turn up at my friends/relatives/distant acquaintances/complete stranger’s house unannounced . Eons ago as a kid, guests turning up unannounced provided welcome relief from tedious time at the study table. Here, I have to book appointments weeks ahead; even for a ‘blink-and-you-miss’ visit.
4. In India, I can expect the high and mighty to be esconsed and transported in the safety of their rarefied zones, far from the teeming masses of lesser humanity – in motorcades and flashy cars that will stop for no red light or traffic police, zooming them to their destination at speeds of travel only surpassed by light. In London, David Cameron ( counterpart of L K Advani, our PM-in-waiting pre Nuclear deal) just had his bike stolen.
5. In India, I can haggle. I can counter any price with absurd offers and negotiate with all the skills of a City banker with any vendor – from the vegetable-wala to the builder. Buying something was not just a case of exchanging plastic money, but it was an exercise in eloquence, coaxing, hard negotiating skills and financial acumen. At the end of every transaction, the buyer felt like a winner. It’s a different matter that this feeling of well being lasted till the promised value of the goods purchased dissipated rapidly, but nothing deters us and we bargain again and again. In the west, I wait for the ‘Sales’.
6. In India, I can follow my heart and make claims without any need for material or scientific evidence. I think, therefore I know. If I think that the Taj Mahal was a Shiv Mandir, then so be it. Freedom of not just thought, but of expression. In London, if I claim to have come back from the dead, then I have to prove it – case in point – the Canoe Man.
7. In India, if I ever get the promised share of millions from the offices of a Nigerian banker wanting to transfer some of the moolah, I can flaunt my prestige saloons and travel in chauffeured luxury. In the west, people stash away the Bentleys and the Rolls Royces in their garage and ride around in bikes, ostensibly to reduce the carbon footprint (does not matter that hordes fly out on long haul holiday flights and burn more fuel than can be justifiably explained in Green terms !).
8. In India, I can write my name as KKKKKiran and still be considered sane enough to sign my Will or any other legal documents. In London, people will think I am mad. Simple.
9. In India, if I call customer services, chances are that Vivek Sharma will visit me to fix the problem personally. In London, I will be speaking on the phone to Jack-with-an- American accent and who is actually Vivek Sharma and who goes through a script for carrying out a conversation and asks me about the weather when all I want to do is make a quick payment.
10. In India, I can feel a sense of belonging, a sense of history seeping into my blood the moment my feet first touches the ground after landing from distant shores. Yes, there are moments when the context of belonging shifted from India, to the state, to the city, to a particular part of the city and finally within the four walls of the house (and I can toss over the garbage across the vacant plot next door), but inspite of this, when we hear the strains of Jana Gana Mana, we are binded to our nation ; a nation born at the midnight hour because of a tryst that we made with destiny. In London, I will always be asked where do I belong. Rightly so, for it is to India that I belong....
Wednesday, 23 July 2008
Kobhi Kobhi
Native speakers of the Assamese language have always struggled with pronouncing the Hindi words in the correct way. Like me, most of my fellow Assamese speakers have a tendency to round off all words with an extended ‘ao’ where it should be ‘aa’ so that ‘Kabhi kabhi’ sounds like ‘Kobhi kobhi’. The sharp crisp overtones of the Hindi words are chiselled off by our tongues, more used to speaking a language suiting our temperament of being somewhat laid back and easy going. As such, we faced monumental struggle when confronted by the arduous task of speaking the national language, Hindi.
Read More !
While at school, we were required to learn Hindi and this added a new dimension to our already existing struggle against all things academic. The only positive that we could think of was that learning Hindi will help us understand Hindi movies better ( this was in the days before subtitles). It did not matter that the dialogues in the hindi movies of the 80s were largely the same, the plots identical and simple enough to be understood by our nearly-10year old brain, but the prospect of not having to ask an elder what the characters were saying, was alluring enough to make us attend the Hindi classes.
And what an onslaught it was. We grappled to understand the concept of the gender of inanimate objects, the ‘ka’ and the ‘ki’, the ‘badi ei’ or the ‘choti ei’ and slowly but surely our collective enthusiasm was beaten to submission, just in time when were were allowed to forgo our lessons any longer. We thus emerged from the classes, able to understand simple dialogues of the hindi movie villains, but unable to make sentences requiring complicated gender bending rules.
So we emerged as a generation of Hindi speaking Assamese-as-mother tonguers, mutilating the language with our half baked knowledge of the same.
But what about our parents, grandparents, uncles and aunts ? What about the generation who were acquainted with Hindi quite late in their lives, when the tongues refuses to bend to any foreign sound ? What happened when time or geographical movement demanded that they move over and break away from their comfort zone of Assamese only ?
They all faced the challenge head on. A simple, but effective counter strategy was to just tweak the Assamese words to sound like Hindi, add a few common Hindi words sounding similar to assamese and fill the gaps with various sounds to confuse the listener and lo and behold, there was a working hindi sentence. So if the Hindi sentence would be ‘Naala saaf kar do’, the Assamese tongue would twist it as ‘Ai, noola thu safa kori deu’. Message conveyed. Mission accomplished. In various regions of the NE, different mutating techniques appeared. One of them is a strategy, which I alluded to in the example above, is the use of qualifying everything with a ‘thu’. For eg, ‘shirt-thu’, ‘joota-thu’, etc. I cringe to recall how my father would request the sales person in a shop in Delhi to show him a shirt – ‘ O shirt-thu dekhai dio’ (dekhai = Assamese for ‘show’, dio = bastardized form of the word diya, meaning ‘give’ in Assamese).
The titles of Ekta Kapoor’s K serials were all mutated to suit her Assamese speaking fan base. Kohani Ghor Ghor ki, Kyunki saas bhi kobhi bohu ti, etc. And yes, it was ‘Kun bonega cororpoti’ for us back home.
Going back to our generation who at least learnt to read and write some Hindi and were thereby more open to the growing influence of media, a new challenge was presented to the ‘I don’t know Hindi’ generation. Some friends started naming their children after some distinctly North Indian sounding names. The resultant mutation at the hands of the older generation can be deduced from the example of my cousin naming her new born son ‘Paarv’ who gets called ‘Paap’(meaning Sin) by my Aunt. Most times, my mother and her likes, camouflage their diability behind words of endearments while confronted with the prospect of calling out such names. Paarv will be called ‘Baba’ more often than not, I am sure.
Hindi spoken the Assamese way –
Danger – 440 ‘bholts’…make whatever sense you want of it !
Read More !
While at school, we were required to learn Hindi and this added a new dimension to our already existing struggle against all things academic. The only positive that we could think of was that learning Hindi will help us understand Hindi movies better ( this was in the days before subtitles). It did not matter that the dialogues in the hindi movies of the 80s were largely the same, the plots identical and simple enough to be understood by our nearly-10year old brain, but the prospect of not having to ask an elder what the characters were saying, was alluring enough to make us attend the Hindi classes.
And what an onslaught it was. We grappled to understand the concept of the gender of inanimate objects, the ‘ka’ and the ‘ki’, the ‘badi ei’ or the ‘choti ei’ and slowly but surely our collective enthusiasm was beaten to submission, just in time when were were allowed to forgo our lessons any longer. We thus emerged from the classes, able to understand simple dialogues of the hindi movie villains, but unable to make sentences requiring complicated gender bending rules.
So we emerged as a generation of Hindi speaking Assamese-as-mother tonguers, mutilating the language with our half baked knowledge of the same.
But what about our parents, grandparents, uncles and aunts ? What about the generation who were acquainted with Hindi quite late in their lives, when the tongues refuses to bend to any foreign sound ? What happened when time or geographical movement demanded that they move over and break away from their comfort zone of Assamese only ?
They all faced the challenge head on. A simple, but effective counter strategy was to just tweak the Assamese words to sound like Hindi, add a few common Hindi words sounding similar to assamese and fill the gaps with various sounds to confuse the listener and lo and behold, there was a working hindi sentence. So if the Hindi sentence would be ‘Naala saaf kar do’, the Assamese tongue would twist it as ‘Ai, noola thu safa kori deu’. Message conveyed. Mission accomplished. In various regions of the NE, different mutating techniques appeared. One of them is a strategy, which I alluded to in the example above, is the use of qualifying everything with a ‘thu’. For eg, ‘shirt-thu’, ‘joota-thu’, etc. I cringe to recall how my father would request the sales person in a shop in Delhi to show him a shirt – ‘ O shirt-thu dekhai dio’ (dekhai = Assamese for ‘show’, dio = bastardized form of the word diya, meaning ‘give’ in Assamese).
The titles of Ekta Kapoor’s K serials were all mutated to suit her Assamese speaking fan base. Kohani Ghor Ghor ki, Kyunki saas bhi kobhi bohu ti, etc. And yes, it was ‘Kun bonega cororpoti’ for us back home.
Going back to our generation who at least learnt to read and write some Hindi and were thereby more open to the growing influence of media, a new challenge was presented to the ‘I don’t know Hindi’ generation. Some friends started naming their children after some distinctly North Indian sounding names. The resultant mutation at the hands of the older generation can be deduced from the example of my cousin naming her new born son ‘Paarv’ who gets called ‘Paap’(meaning Sin) by my Aunt. Most times, my mother and her likes, camouflage their diability behind words of endearments while confronted with the prospect of calling out such names. Paarv will be called ‘Baba’ more often than not, I am sure.
Hindi spoken the Assamese way –
Danger – 440 ‘bholts’…make whatever sense you want of it !
Thus they spoke !
Finally the deal is through. The ayes have won over the naes, money exchanged hands, deals were stuck and the brokers and middle-man had a field day stage managing the whole drama around the Trust vote. For a few days, the TV screens screamed about all the activities in Delhi with the same single minded devotion they displayed during the Abhi-Ash wedding. While bade bhaiyya Amitabh Bachchan is celebrating the success of the ongoing Unforgettable tour, chote bhaiyya Amar Singh is also celebrating the success of all the wheeling-dealing around the unforgettable Trust vote.
Not too many MPs understood what the deal was about in the first place. It was just an opportunity to rake some moolah, strike some deals and making hay while the sun shines. But one of the customary acts surrounding the ‘debate’ was that the MPs had to make speeches and justify their adopted stand.
And what speeches they made ! Summarising some of the highlights below…
PM MM Singh, the king - Manmohan Singh has finally come out of the shadow of Mrs Sonia Gandhi. Departing from his usual image of a demure and soft – spoken high brow intellectual, he lashed out at Mr L K Advani for his many unsavoury remarks of the past. I cannot help but conjure up the image of PM MM Singh the king, drinking copius
amount of the magic potion that is the secret of strength for Asterix in the Gaul village before he went onto make that speech defending the Nuclear Treaty and counter assaulting L K Advani for mocking him as a ‘Nikkamma PM’. Like Akshaye Kumar in Khiladi no 3 ( a sneak peek shown in OSO), Singh fired the bullets at the Opposition, who took cover from the onslaught with wads of notes that were allegedly offered to them as horse-trading.
Post speech image – Singh is King smses going around Punjab. PM MM is the new Congress Election mascot ( I can already hear the melodious strains of Mann Mohana from Jodha Akbar, coming out of 10, Janpath).
Rahul Baba - Maybe Rahul baba also had some remaining drops of the magic potion before he made the emotive speech about bringing power to Sasikala’s house and thereby, hopefully to most of rural India. No more loadshedding, rural India will finally see the light of the day. Wipee. Point to note – he clarified that he spoke as an Indian, thus rubbishing the claim that some people make about Italian origins.
Post speech image - Rahul baba emerged the charmer, as evidenced how he herded some of the black sheep back into the party fold before the crucial vote.
Omar Abdullah – This man did not need any magic potion. He delivered a speech that managed to rise above the din of the House and snatched attention from even those rebels who were busy calculating the number of zeros in a crore. He thundered at the Opposition benches and ridiculed the notion that the deal is anti muslim “Why must I as an Indian and as a Muslim be afraid of this deal? The enemies of Muslims, like the enemies of all Indians, are poverty, hunger and lack of voice. That is the fight to wage.”
Well said, my friend. Hope that these sentiments expressed in Delhi hold true in Srinagar as well. Post speech image – same as before. Among the new breed of young leaders who inherited the role and is now fitting into it.
Laloo Prasad Yadav – By far, the best speech of the day. He brought in some much needed comic relief and borrowed gem of lines from Hindi movies to declare his love for the Congress and admonishment for the Left.
He declared his love for the Congress with the words from a Hindi movie song,
"Char saal pehle humey tumsey pyaar tha, aaj bhi hai aur kal bhi rahega (we were in love four years ago, and so we will be today and tomorrow),"
He warned the Left who went in search of new allies ,
"Tum humko na chahogey toh koi baat nahin. Lekin tum kisi aur ko chahogey toh mushkil hogi."
He questioned the BJP who interjected and ridiculed Rahul baba’s speech which had references to Kalavati and Sashikala,
Post speech image – The persona of a buffoon, representing Lakshman’s common man in the Indian public life, he commands and gets attention anytime he speaks. Don’t be mistaken; he has a very sharp political brain.
A special mention for Somnath Chatterjee, the Speaker, who refused to bow down to the partisan demands of the Gen Secretary and emerged as a true Parliamentarian, reminding us all of what being a people’s representative is all about. Kudos Dada, you are my hero.
Whether, as Lalooji mentioned, ‘Rakshas’ (demons) where defeated at the ‘gou-bela’(dusk, when the cows are herded back from the grazing fields) , only time will tell, but 22nd July 2008 will be remembered as the day when our Dr. Manmohan Singh emerged as India’s Prime Minister in the true sense of the term and a day when all the elements of a Hindi masala movie was being enacted in the Parliament House.
Not too many MPs understood what the deal was about in the first place. It was just an opportunity to rake some moolah, strike some deals and making hay while the sun shines. But one of the customary acts surrounding the ‘debate’ was that the MPs had to make speeches and justify their adopted stand.
And what speeches they made ! Summarising some of the highlights below…
PM MM Singh, the king - Manmohan Singh has finally come out of the shadow of Mrs Sonia Gandhi. Departing from his usual image of a demure and soft – spoken high brow intellectual, he lashed out at Mr L K Advani for his many unsavoury remarks of the past. I cannot help but conjure up the image of PM MM Singh the king, drinking copius
amount of the magic potion that is the secret of strength for Asterix in the Gaul village before he went onto make that speech defending the Nuclear Treaty and counter assaulting L K Advani for mocking him as a ‘Nikkamma PM’. Like Akshaye Kumar in Khiladi no 3 ( a sneak peek shown in OSO), Singh fired the bullets at the Opposition, who took cover from the onslaught with wads of notes that were allegedly offered to them as horse-trading.
Post speech image – Singh is King smses going around Punjab. PM MM is the new Congress Election mascot ( I can already hear the melodious strains of Mann Mohana from Jodha Akbar, coming out of 10, Janpath).
Rahul Baba - Maybe Rahul baba also had some remaining drops of the magic potion before he made the emotive speech about bringing power to Sasikala’s house and thereby, hopefully to most of rural India. No more loadshedding, rural India will finally see the light of the day. Wipee. Point to note – he clarified that he spoke as an Indian, thus rubbishing the claim that some people make about Italian origins.
Post speech image - Rahul baba emerged the charmer, as evidenced how he herded some of the black sheep back into the party fold before the crucial vote.
Omar Abdullah – This man did not need any magic potion. He delivered a speech that managed to rise above the din of the House and snatched attention from even those rebels who were busy calculating the number of zeros in a crore. He thundered at the Opposition benches and ridiculed the notion that the deal is anti muslim “Why must I as an Indian and as a Muslim be afraid of this deal? The enemies of Muslims, like the enemies of all Indians, are poverty, hunger and lack of voice. That is the fight to wage.”
Well said, my friend. Hope that these sentiments expressed in Delhi hold true in Srinagar as well. Post speech image – same as before. Among the new breed of young leaders who inherited the role and is now fitting into it.
Laloo Prasad Yadav – By far, the best speech of the day. He brought in some much needed comic relief and borrowed gem of lines from Hindi movies to declare his love for the Congress and admonishment for the Left.
He declared his love for the Congress with the words from a Hindi movie song,
"Char saal pehle humey tumsey pyaar tha, aaj bhi hai aur kal bhi rahega (we were in love four years ago, and so we will be today and tomorrow),"
He warned the Left who went in search of new allies ,
"Tum humko na chahogey toh koi baat nahin. Lekin tum kisi aur ko chahogey toh mushkil hogi."
He questioned the BJP who interjected and ridiculed Rahul baba’s speech which had references to Kalavati and Sashikala,
Post speech image – The persona of a buffoon, representing Lakshman’s common man in the Indian public life, he commands and gets attention anytime he speaks. Don’t be mistaken; he has a very sharp political brain.
A special mention for Somnath Chatterjee, the Speaker, who refused to bow down to the partisan demands of the Gen Secretary and emerged as a true Parliamentarian, reminding us all of what being a people’s representative is all about. Kudos Dada, you are my hero.
Whether, as Lalooji mentioned, ‘Rakshas’ (demons) where defeated at the ‘gou-bela’(dusk, when the cows are herded back from the grazing fields) , only time will tell, but 22nd July 2008 will be remembered as the day when our Dr. Manmohan Singh emerged as India’s Prime Minister in the true sense of the term and a day when all the elements of a Hindi masala movie was being enacted in the Parliament House.
Tuesday, 22 July 2008
Electrifying the dribblers
An appeal to Lalooji – please sir, after voting in the Nuclear deal, generate more power and electrify all the train tracks in the country. Then all those who use the lines as public urinals will meet the same fate as this man here -
Read this !
Read this !
Monday, 21 July 2008
An article most foul
Monday mornings are always dreadful (save for the blissful bank holiday ones) and I epitomise Newton's laws for the better part of the day when the mind refuses to follow even the simplest of instructions and continues to be in the state of the suspended reality of the weekend - no emails to reply, no deadlines to meet (the washing can wait). Bliss. Utter bliss of keeping the commerce of the week day at bay. But on Monday mornings, as I chug along the train to begin the weekly commute, inertia takes over and its a struggle getting back into 'work-mode'.
Oh was an apple worth the curse for mankind having to work to earn a living !
But some Mondays are different. There's something abuzz in the air. Something tickling the grey cells and nudging them to consciousness earlier than usual. Today is one such Monday.
A friend stumbled across this article (http://asianage.com/archive%5Chtmlfiles%5C%5CDelhi%20Age/Murder%20most%20foul.html ) where the writer raised an alleged case of dog eating in the JNU campus and demanded stringent punishment for the arbitrator of the alleged crime. I was intrigued by the passion with which the writer voiced her disgust at the alleged crime and demanded punishment for student in question. Intrigued enough to be nudged out of my stupor earlier than usual.
While I have nothing against animal activists and in fact, admire people who feel passionate enough about a cause to devote time and attention to it, I am sometimes amazed how such passion imprisons one into a miopic vision where one sees nothing but the cause alone. The cause in its singularity.
The writer of this article sweeps a paint brush with the colours of ignorance and illiteracy across the entire North Eastern region of India citing the culture of eating dogs as an example of sub human existentialism prevailing in this country. Such biased thoughts are sadly not isolated among a few ignorant individuals but somewhat common in the rest of the country. The article reeks of prejudice and moral highground, somewhat misplaced by the writer's miopic vision for her chosen cause.
Let me assure people who think like her that the North East is not the land of bizzare customs and rituals. I mean, Shakti Kapoor shouts more 'Aaooo' than any member of the tribal societies in this region. Not everyone sits down to eat dogs at dinner time and when 'Hum Aapke Hain kaun' was screened in Nagaland, people were not looking greedily at the dog, but eating popcorns as in other parts of India. To put it simply, the people in North east are not ogres out of Shrek.
Mizoram, a state of North East India, has one of the highest literacy levels in the country. Meghalaya has a matrilineal society and while female infanticide is a malaise in the rest of India, it is a cause of celebration when a baby girl is born into the family.
If one writes in the national media about an incident and makes sweeping accusations for the people of one region, then it will probably be apt for the people from NE to write about the countless acts of savagery like female infanticide, dowry, caste discrimination, etc that malign the rest of India.
It is amusing how little is reported in the national press about the atrocities committed in this part of the country by the Indian Army, yet the act reported in the article gets the attention of national media. Wish these activists could also take up the causes of several girls from the NE being abused in the capital - afterall Darwin's theory of evolution proved our origins from animals and hence, we too fall under the remit of their cause. A bit convulated perhaps, but still if Ram Gopal Verma can justify the conclusion of Sarkar Raj, then I can also take some liberties.
As OK said in Om Shanti Om, 'Picture abhi baaki hai guru'....for the North East, at least !!
Watch this space !
Oh was an apple worth the curse for mankind having to work to earn a living !
But some Mondays are different. There's something abuzz in the air. Something tickling the grey cells and nudging them to consciousness earlier than usual. Today is one such Monday.
A friend stumbled across this article (http://asianage.com/archive%5Chtmlfiles%5C%5CDelhi%20Age/Murder%20most%20foul.html ) where the writer raised an alleged case of dog eating in the JNU campus and demanded stringent punishment for the arbitrator of the alleged crime. I was intrigued by the passion with which the writer voiced her disgust at the alleged crime and demanded punishment for student in question. Intrigued enough to be nudged out of my stupor earlier than usual.
While I have nothing against animal activists and in fact, admire people who feel passionate enough about a cause to devote time and attention to it, I am sometimes amazed how such passion imprisons one into a miopic vision where one sees nothing but the cause alone. The cause in its singularity.
The writer of this article sweeps a paint brush with the colours of ignorance and illiteracy across the entire North Eastern region of India citing the culture of eating dogs as an example of sub human existentialism prevailing in this country. Such biased thoughts are sadly not isolated among a few ignorant individuals but somewhat common in the rest of the country. The article reeks of prejudice and moral highground, somewhat misplaced by the writer's miopic vision for her chosen cause.
Let me assure people who think like her that the North East is not the land of bizzare customs and rituals. I mean, Shakti Kapoor shouts more 'Aaooo' than any member of the tribal societies in this region. Not everyone sits down to eat dogs at dinner time and when 'Hum Aapke Hain kaun' was screened in Nagaland, people were not looking greedily at the dog, but eating popcorns as in other parts of India. To put it simply, the people in North east are not ogres out of Shrek.
Mizoram, a state of North East India, has one of the highest literacy levels in the country. Meghalaya has a matrilineal society and while female infanticide is a malaise in the rest of India, it is a cause of celebration when a baby girl is born into the family.
If one writes in the national media about an incident and makes sweeping accusations for the people of one region, then it will probably be apt for the people from NE to write about the countless acts of savagery like female infanticide, dowry, caste discrimination, etc that malign the rest of India.
It is amusing how little is reported in the national press about the atrocities committed in this part of the country by the Indian Army, yet the act reported in the article gets the attention of national media. Wish these activists could also take up the causes of several girls from the NE being abused in the capital - afterall Darwin's theory of evolution proved our origins from animals and hence, we too fall under the remit of their cause. A bit convulated perhaps, but still if Ram Gopal Verma can justify the conclusion of Sarkar Raj, then I can also take some liberties.
As OK said in Om Shanti Om, 'Picture abhi baaki hai guru'....for the North East, at least !!
Watch this space !
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